


Like This...

by Fang138



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Literary References & Allusions, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-16
Updated: 2013-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-25 16:50:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/641042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fang138/pseuds/Fang138
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Till is having a bad day. He is inspired by the poet Rumi while seeking Company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like This...

           

 Till needed more time to himself than usual to get back into his normal offstage persona after that nights show. There was a technical difficulty with a section of the pyro right at the start and if that wasn’t a sign things were going to go wrong what was. By the time they had made it to “Pussy” Till had calmed down and was no longer going to kill a stage hand. That is until he got to the dick-ahh canon and nothing came out, absolutely nothing. Mean while not only were Paul and Olli smirking and exchanging glances trying not to laugh, but he had they entire crowd laughing at him like it was his inability to perform sexually that caused the malfunction to occur. Immediately after the song he left the stage and completely obliterated a folding chair and some other nearby things. The rest of the show went off without a hitch.  
  
Till just couldn’t shake his aggression as easily as he wanted to and not wanting to make matters worse he avoided human beings at all cost. Still not completely calm Till was walking around the block of the hotel not straying too far for fear of getting lost in the strange city in the dark. As he walks the cool, crisp air seems to filter his soul and take the heat of aggression out of him. Upon rounding the corner he is drawn back to the hotel he had been avoiding. A sudden overwhelming need for company hits him. He doesn’t want lively company so joining the mini party Richard started with Schneider, Paul, and Olli isn’t an option. He moves down the hall to the room 313 he picks his arm up to knock on the door. Just then he realizes it is cracked open with a shoe as if Flake knew he was coming but didn’t want to answer the door.  
  
Till calls out Flake’s name to address his entrance into the room he sees him out on the balcony, sipping a drink looking up to the stars. After watching him for a moment or two Till shuts the door and joins Flake. As he moves closer to him he realizes that Flake is trying to see the night stars through the cities bright lights. In response to the struggle Till says, “You can see them a lot better when you are away from all these damned lights.”  
  
Flake smirks and turns his head slightly, “I like to think that the stars and such natural things are perfect beauty”. Till smiles inwardly and thinks to himself the imperfection of true perfect beauty was right in front of him. Flake goes on to say, “The moon is full tonight”, pointing to the clouds in the distance, “I sure wouldn’t mind seeing what it looks like.”  
  
Till pulls gently on Flake’s sleeve forcing him to turn around. “It looks like this,” Till says as he guides his hand slowly down the side of Flake’s face. Flake inhales the sent from the passing arm and thinks back to earlier in the night, the very moment he began craving to smell and taste that certain sent. He was watching Till spread his fiery wings during “Engel”. Then he inhaled as much as he could of Till as he was being carried during “Ich Tu Dir Weh” and a good thing that was too or an entire arena would have seen him faint from lack of oxygen. Flake smiles knowing his engel is in front of him and says, “I inspire you to quote thirteenth century poets. How lovely. Don’t start spinning in circles now or I will be very scared.”  
  
In response Till smiles one of his rare, but radiant smiles and leans in to kiss the cheek of his lover. Continuing on with joke Till throws his shirt off his body and into the room behind him. Smiles of acknowledgement are exchanged before Flake starts running his hands up and down the chest and admiring the muscle making its way back onto the body that seemed uncharacteristically frail at the beginning of the tour. Their eyes meet as his hands go up once more settling on the nipples hardened by the not quite cold, but cool breeze surrounding them.  
  
Their lips meet and their tongues dance together in a passion that rivals the tango. As the dance continues their bodies draw closer. Till reaches under the still roaming arms and begins to undo Flake’s pants pulling them down as sparse as possible to protect the warmth from the cold; and the thousand eyes the night has that may be watching. Flake reciprocates the gesture as Till strokes his member eliciting a delightful moan from the keyboardist. Flake continues in the sexual game of follow the leader until his hand is pushed out of the way by the hand he momentarily missed.   
  
Till pushes his body against Flake using the pressure of the wall holding them up. The two members meet and continually rubbed together. The moans alternating between them, like a clock going tick tock, become louder and closer together. Flake grabs the naked flesh and claws at the back as the only means of being grounded to reality. His thoughts become unclear and he only remembers the pleasure surging through his body radiating from his center. The cries and the clawing are too much for Till and he joins his lover in existential bliss.  
  
Only then did the logistics of being outside and away from towels become aware to the two men. They look around hopelessly for a method to clean at least some of the mess they made. Without hope they situate themselves into their clothing long enough to make it inside to get a better arrangement. As they walk through the door Flake asks, “Tell me you don’t think God was listening to us cum.”  
Till smiles once again and replies, “He wasn’t, but I’m sure the entire hotel did.”  
  
In that moment Flake realizes that they just had sexual contact outside possibly in front of God knows who and blushes furiously. If only Till didn’t read love poems.

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by an amazing poem called "Like this" from sufi poet Rumi. It is also was inspired by a video on youtube of a malfunction at a show in Russia that I saw ages ago.


End file.
